Wilde, Jennifer (39 page)

"Just
sit there like a good girl," he whispered, "and then, when the
shooting starts, I want you to jump up and dart behind this tree. You got it?
Don't make a move till I fire."

I
had to warn him! Somehow I had to warn him. Yet I couldn't possibly do anything
now. If I tried to reach up and unfasten the gag, the Brennans would see. I
heard the faintest scraping noise, and I knew he was gone. The sense of
presence was missing. How long had he been there? Long enough to hear their
talk? He was planning something. That's why he had cut me loose. What was he
going to do? The tension was almost impossible to bear. Several more minutes
passed, and then there was a loud crash on the other side of the clearing.

Both
men leaped to their feet, turning to the sound. Billy was shaking. Jim had his
pistol ready, aiming into the trees.

"Brennan!"

The
shout came from another direction, and Jeff stepped into the clearing even as
they whirled around. There was a thundering blast, a streak of orange flame, a
huge gust of smoke. A man screamed. I leaped to my feet, and through the smoke
I saw Jim Brennan clutching his chest. Blood seeped through his fingers, and
his face was a mask of incredulity. Eyes wide with shocked disbelief, he gave
another anguished cry and toppled to his knees, showers of scarlet blood
spurting as he threw his arms out and flopped over the log he had been sitting
on only seconds before. The barrel of Jeff's rifle was still smoking, but he
looked calm, almost bored.

Billy
Brennan tore the reins loose from the tree where they had been fastened and
leaped into the saddle, his red shirt billowing wildly. Digging his knees into
the horse's side, he gave its rump a resounding slap, and horse and rider tore
into the woods before the smoke had even cleared. As I pulled the gag off and
spat out the rag in my mouth, I was trembling violently and my knees threatened
to give way. It had been less than sixty seconds since the rock Jeff had hurled
had crashed into the woods.

He
strolled over to the fallen man. Putting his foot against Brennan's side, he
gave the body a shove, and Brennan rolled over like a limp, bloody rag doll.
Jeff examined the corpse without emotion. I shuddered, turning my head away
from the grotesque sight. We could hear horse hooves pounding through the
woods, the noise fading in the distance.

"That's
brotherly love for you," Jeff remarked. "He didn't even wait to see
if Jim was dead or alive."

"You're
not going after him?"

"No
need to. He won't bother us none. Besides, without his brother to do his
thinking for him, he won't last a breakfast spell out here. Are you all
right?"

"I—"

When
I couldn't continue, he stepped over to me and pulled me into his arms, holding
me loosely against him. I was still trembling, going through a delayed reaction
that was even worse than the initial horror, and Jeff murmured soft words,
comforting me. I clung to him, sobbing now, and he stroked my hair. It was
several minutes before I grew still. I looked up into those warm brown eyes. He
grinned, touching my cheek.

"You
thought I was a goner, didn't you? Thought I was gonna walk right into their
trap? Not likely. I knew something was up. It was just too simple. I hung
around out there for a good twenty minutes before I finally decided how to play
it."

"I
was brushing my hair, and—at first I thought it was Indians, and then—I was so
relieved to see it was a white man. He and his brother had seen us earlier. He
came to investigate. But when I suddenly realized who he was, he grabbed me
and—"

"It's
over now," he said quietly. "You're shaken up, but you're going to be
all right."

"It
was
you
I was worried about. I thought—"

Jeff
placed his hand over my mouth, and then he squeezed me tightly and held me like
that for a moment before releasing me. He picked up Brennan's pistol and thrust
it into the waistband of his breeches, then glanced around the clearing as
though to see if there was anything else worth taking.

"Reckon
we'd better mosey on back to our own camp now," he said casually.
"It's a good long walk, and we still haven't eaten. Billy Boy'll probably
sneak back to bury his brother. You all right now?"

I
nodded. It was over. The nightmare had ended at last.

Jeff
grinned, and then he put his arm around my shoulders, leading me out of the clearing.
He was his old self again, chattering blithely as we moved through the dark
woods.

"Know
what? I shot me the biggest, fattest gobbler you ever seen. I'm gonna clean it,
and then I'm gonna roast it, and we're gonna have us the dandiest meal we've had
yet. Talk about workin' up an appetite—"

I
awoke with a start. There was no grogginess, no period of transition. One
minute I was asleep, the next I was completely awake, and I sensed immediately
that something was wrong. I could feel it in my bones. I sat up, pushing the
blankets away. Jeff was gone. He had been nestled under the blankets with me,
and now he wasn't here. I had the feeling that he had been gone for some time.
Why had he left me alone like this? It had never happened before. I got to my
feet, deeply alarmed.

The
sky was an ashy gray, the stars gradually dimming, barely visible behind a
misty haze. The sun would be coming up quite soon now. I could see the campsite
clearly, see the heap of charred logs that had been our fire last night, the
pile of packs Jeff had removed from the mules. The mules were tethered to a
tree at the edge of the woods. Jenny was nibbling the grass, and... one of the
mules was missing. The third mule, the one that carried most of the packs,
wasn't there. Why should Jeff leave like this, taking one of the mules with
him? It didn't make sense.

None
of it made sense. I was beginning to grow even more alarmed. Could Billy
Brennan have crept up and stolen one of the mules and Jeff have gone after him?
No, that was absurd. Five days had passed since Billy had torn off into the
woods on his horse, and there had been no sign of him. He was terrified of
Jeff, and creeping up to our camp was the last thing he would dream of doing.
There was little chance we would ever see him again. He could make much better
time on horseback than we could on mules, and he was probably two hundred miles
away by this time.

But
where had Jeff gone, and what had happened to the mule? If there had been any
noise, I would have awakened. I felt certain of that. Jeff had slipped out from
under the blankets and crept away into the woods, deliberately making no noise
for fear of waking me. There was probably some very simple explanation, I told
myself. Perhaps the mule had chewed through the tether rope and wandered off.
No doubt I was being foolish, feeling this alarm, but I couldn't shake it. No
matter how hard I tried to reason with myself, the alarm remained, mounting as
more and more time passed and Jeff still didn't appear.

The
dense forest surrounded me, seemed to engulf me. I was acutely aware of every
noise, acutely aware of being alone. The last star flickered out, and the misty
haze vanished to reveal a pearl-gray sky. As the pink and orange stains began
to spread on the horizon, color began to appear around me, black and gray and
silver giving way to the green of leaves, the blue of wildflowers, the tan and
brown of tree trunks. Pale sunlight streamed over the treetops, growing
stronger. We were usually on our way by this time. My alarm increased. I was on
the verge of tears now, frightened, feeling lost. Where was he? What... what if
he didn't come back?

A
mockingbird began to sing in the trees. A raccoon peered out at me from behind
a clump of bushes and quickly disappeared when I turned to look at him. The
mules stirred restlessly. I heard something far, far away in the woods. It
sounded like a shriek. A wildcat? The noise was not repeated. I took up my
rifle. It was already loaded. It gave me some feeling of security. That feeling
vanished after a while. What good was my rifle if Jeff was gone? Without Jeff I
would be... I refused to think about that. I had to be sensible. I couldn't
panic.

I
put
the rifle down. I gathered up wood and dry brush and placed it over the charred
logs, and after two or three minutes with the flint I had the fire going. Jeff
had walked to the stream and filled the old kettle with water before going to
bed last night. I took the tin of coffee out of one of the packs and scooped
coffee into the kettle, not bothering to measure it as I usually did. Coffee
was precious, and this was our last tin, but I didn't let that bother me this
morning. When the fire had died down enough, I set the kettle on it. I took out
the battered tin mugs. I folded up the blankets and put them back in the packs.

I
fought the alarm. I forced back the tears. I wouldn't let myself go to pieces.
The sunlight was strong now, the clearing bathed with radiant yellow-white
rays. Birds were singing all around. Fifteen minutes had passed since I had
heard that peculiar noise in the distance. A wildcat. Of course it had been a
wildcat. I wouldn't let myself believe it had been anything else. There had
been no sign of Indians. Jeff had assured me they were well away from the area.

The
coffee was boiling vigorously, filling the air with a rich, pungent aroma.
Another five minutes passed. I fetched a cloth and took the kettle off the
fire, setting it down on a rock, and it was then that I heard the footsteps
approaching. I seized the rifle again, aiming it in the direction of the noise,
and then the bushes parted and Jeff stood there with a surprised look in his
eyes. I lowered the rifle. Looking relieved, he strolled on into the clearing.

"Hoped
I'd get back 'fore you woke up," he remarked. His voice was casual. Much
too casual.

"Where
were you?"

"Uh...
well, you see..." He hesitated, obviously trying to think up a plausible
story. "I woke up, and I... I noticed that one of the mules had broken
loose and just... wandered off. I went to look for it."

"Where
is it?"

"Couldn't
find it," he replied. "It musta wandered off early, right after we
went to sleep. Musta been gone for hours before I went out lookin' for
it."

His
manner was definitely too casual. He was keeping something from me. I sensed it
immediately.

"You
could track down the Brennan brothers," I said, "but you couldn't
find a mule that wandered away from camp."

"Yeah.
I feel kinda stupid, but—"

"You're
lying, Jeff."

He
gazed at me with hurt brown eyes, managing to look like a particularly virile choirboy.
It was then that I noticed the cut on his leg. The buckskin was slit perhaps
four inches alongside his right thigh. The edges of the slit were stained red,
still wet.

"What
happened to your leg? You're hurt—"

"Aw,
it's nothin', Marietta. Nothin' to get into a stew about. I ran into a
thornbush, long, sharp thorns. Caught my breeches on one of the thorns,
scratched myself. Say, is that coffee?"

"Jeff—"

His
manner was suddenly stern, irritable, and a deep frown creased his brow.
"The mule's gone, Marietta," he snapped. "Forget about it. I'm
back now. Everything's all right."

"I
heard a shriek in the woods. I thought it was a wildcat. Jeff, I want to know
the truth. The mule didn't just wander off. You're keeping something from
me."

"I
said forget it!"

He
had never spoken to me so sharply before. I knew that he was worried, and I
suspected the reason why. He poured a cup of coffee and banged the kettle back
down so sharply that hot liquid spurted out of the spout and burned his hand.
He let out an outraged cry and then glared at me as though I were responsible.
I turned away from him, angry myself. I could hear him digging through the
packs, cursing volubly when he was unable to locate whatever it was he was
looking for.

"Where
the
hell
is that ointment?"

I
sighed wearily and stepped over to the packs, shoved him aside, pulling out the
ointment almost immediately. Taking hold of his hand, I smeared it with the
clear, sticky gel. He watched closely, a petulant expression on his face.

"I
think you'll live now," I said coldly, putting the ointment away.

"You're
in a bitch of a mood this morning."

"How
do you expect me to feel? I wake up while it's still dark and find myself alone
in the wilderness. I hear a strange noise in the woods. One of the mules is missing,
and you come back with some cock-and-bull story a child of three
wouldn't—"

"Look,
let's not argue. Okay? I just might hit you. I don't usually beat my women, but
you're sorely temptin' me.

I
poured my coffee and drank it, ignoring him. Jeff kicked dirt over the fire,
dousing it, then poured the rest of the coffee out over it to make sure no
sparks were still burning. Then he saddled the mules and began to arrange the
packs on them. Jenny and his mule were going to have to carry a heavier load
now. Coffee finished, I stood up just as he was fastening the final pack on his
mule.

"Will
they be able to carry all that and us too?" I inquired.